Belonging
by Hayase Yuuki
Summary: In the middle of the Edo period, Taichi Yagami is a lord responsible for guarding one of the shogun's estates. An ancient kitsune spirit named Yamato is drawn to Taichi's powerful aura, and decides that it is time to make mischief in the human world once more.
1. Chapter 1: Possessions

**Belonging**  
Chapter 1: Possessions

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own, have never owned, will never own Digimon and its characters. To this day I will sometimes stay up late because something reminds me of Taito and I simply cannot do anything for it but write.

 **Author's Note** : Hello again! I am randomly back because I wanted a _spicier_ Yamato, and this is what happened.

* * *

The delicate perfume of cherry blossoms wafting through the gentle breeze of the quiet, starless night made for a perfect evening stroll. The moon was brilliant amid the deep blue sky, despite lavender shadows of clouds that tried to douse the light, as if it were a jealous lover. The haze only served to magnify the beauty of the moon, cloaking the heavenly body with mystery.

Taichi Yagami was on guard duty that evening, patrolling one of the villas of the shogun. He was a lord and carried out his duties faithfully, and nights like this made him smile despite his thirst for adventure. Although there was a whole world outside of the capital, there was no denying the exquisite stillness of the late night, when not a soul was awake, and the only sound for miles were the quiet songs of cicadas. Had he been a poet, he might have written a line or two appreciating this moment.

A rustling pulled him from his reverie, and he snapped his head toward the general direction of the sound. Well, work had to be done, no matter how beautiful the environment. He kept his hand on the hilt of his blade, approaching with trained caution. Perhaps it was just a fox.

Breathing softly and treading lightly, he was nearly impossible to hear. There was a reason he was one of the best guards of the capital. More movement assured that he was getting closer, and his eyes darted to the vermillion columns, wide enough to hide a bandit.

It was dishonorable to strike a foe who might be unarmed; surely, the fighting was over for years to come, or so he'd hoped. And so he announced himself, voice deep and deadly, just above a whisper, but enough to send a ripple through the silence of the night. "I am Lord Taichi Yagami of the Satake clan," he stated with crisp authority, before switching to the more common tongue of his province. "You should come out and surrender; this is not the place to cross, friend."

From behind the pillar, Taichi saw a pale face. He nearly gasped as the figure peeked out, for he had never seen eyes that color in his life. They were the color of a summer sky, and as the creature stepped out, the lord felt his heart skip a beat. The palpitation had likely originated in fear, but it was intrigue that kept him still, for the figure belonged to a handsome young man. Save for the color of his eyes and his light hair, the man could have easily fit in with the court ladies if he so chose; perhaps he could even be a warrior on the field, the kind who used his beauty as a distraction. Taichi felt his breath catch as the man smirked at him, looking smug and perhaps even a little bored. Was this some sort of fox spirit?

He knew that he should draw his sword, but he did not know how he could defend the villa against a spirit. Its residents were certainly more afraid of spirits than they were of bandits, and for good reason: many lives had been lost in the time of the warring states in the fight for unification, and many of them were certain to be restless and stayed connected with the mortal world. His legs felt leaden as the golden-haired man approached, head tilted in what looked like a curious nonchalance. "How laughable to think I would surrender to a human," he chuckled, his voice melodic and silvery. "But you are a courageous one, aren't you?"

Taichi suddenly thought of the feeling of silken kimonos brushing against his skin as the stranger spoke. The haze that veiled the moon seemed to transfer over his eyes, and within moments, the blue-eyed man was before him. When had he moved so close in such a short time?

He was clad in an elegantly decorated robe of forest green silk lazily tied together at the front, revealing just enough of his bare chest with taut muscle to make Taichi want to look away for reasons he couldn't articulate. The movements of his bare feet were graceful and languid, as if he were walking upon water. Tall and lean, they were of similar height, which made it all too easy for the lord to fall victim to that cerulean gaze.

Taichi had listened to stories of _kitsune_ as a child. They were agents of mischief and chaos, and they were not to be trusted, for they could take the shape of any person they wished, just for the fun of it. As the spirit circled his rigid body, he vaguely wondered if his hair was golden because he'd earned his ninth tail, and knew at that moment that he would not be long for this world. For a _kitsune_ with nine tails meant that an ancient being had Taichi in his grasp, and he had little hope for escape. But a whisper of a memory came to him, and he prayed it would work.

It was now difficult to speak. The lord felt like he was fighting his own mouth, which felt sealed shut with dark magic, but he persisted with the faint hope of survival in tow. "Honorable spirit," he managed. "Please, allow me to...to pay respects...to your shrine. If you could just tell me your name...then I wouldn't confuse you with another."

A name held immense power, but fox spirits were also known for their vanity. Sure enough, the spirit scoffed, his pink lips quirked as if he had just heard a relatively clever joke. "Oh, so you know of my kind. You are right, my dear human, to try and take my name from me. But how quickly you've forgotten," he said, wrapping his arms around the warrior from behind, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "You announced your name to me before anything else, Taichi Yagami. You belonged to me the moment you opened your mouth."

Taichi's eyes fluttered as the spirit ran his fingertips along his lips, as if to physically demonstrate his error. The touch of this creature sent pleasant chills along his spine that made him feel hungry and alive and shameful all at once. Foolish mannerisms! And yet as he stood there, he started to allow himself to fall prey to the golden-haired young man, for his body had never felt so exhilarated before. He craved adventure, and surely, this would be a story to tell if he survived. And if he didn't, well, there were certainly worse ways to die.

"Since you are already mine, you may call me Yamato," instructed the spirit, who had decided to bring Taichi down to his knees before him. Yamato lifted the lord's chin so that he could see the moon reflected in those deep brown eyes, and bent down to brush his lips against the man's forehead. "You will come with me, I think. I've not felt an aura as strong as yours, and I would very much like to keep you to myself."

Dumb with awe and desire, Taichi closed his eyes as he felt Yamato's fingers running through his thick hair, his skin tingling as those hands glided down to the back of his neck. He shivered at this, for he was not aware that his neck was as easily stimulated as other parts of his body, and a soft moan escaped from his lips.

In response, Yamato smiled slyly, kneeling at a higher angle, and buried his face into the young man's neck, murmuring soft nothings against the skin and delighting from the prickles of pleasure that radiated from his victim. "Ah, and a pretty voice frees you from your cage as well, does it?" he whispered, noting the gentle whimpers. He tasted them in the air like a delicacy, the smoky flavor of Taichi's helpless sounds. "You and I will get along famously."

And with that, Yamato stood. Enthralled, Taichi followed obediently, not caring that he had fallen prey to this beautiful creature. He knew that if he wanted to, he could fight it, but at the moment he could not think of a good reason to do so. They walked into the depths of the garden, the smell of cherry blossoms sweet and almost overpowering, and suddenly, all had gone black.

* * *

 **Footnotes** :  
\- This is set in the Edo period (1603-1868), when the Tokugawa shogunate was in power. This takes place after the Sengoku/Warring States Period, and the era was achieved thanks to the efforts of Oda and Toyotomi (and Tokugawa was the beneficiary).  
\- People in the Edo period were extremely superstitious. Well, there are a _lot_ of superstitions in Japan, and I need to find my notes on some possible reasons behind that. I'm pretty sure that all the deaths from the warring states period had something to do with this one, at least.  
\- The more tails a _kitsune_ has, the older it is, supposedly. Nine is the maximum number of tails, and after a thousand years, their fur is meant to turn gold and they are supposed to ascend to the heavens as a _tenkou_.  
\- And yes, that was a Spirited Away reference.  
\- Also yes, I realize that after I finished writing this, I'm going to have to really stretch to find a plot. Oh well.


	2. Chapter 2: Dominion

Belonging  
Chapter 2: Dominion

Disclaimer: I do not own, have never owned, will never own Digimon and its characters.

* * *

In the darkness, a dark-haired man lay still, his chest rising and falling, slowly taking in the scent of camellia blossoms and burning wood. Beside him was an ethereal being with golden hair and sky-blue eyes, watching over the man with a mixture of curiosity and boredom. Clad in rich fabrics and drawing in sweet smoke from a long pipe, he looked the very part of an aristocrat, but from a time long past. The man on the futon looked militaristic in comparison, wearing a kamishimo of midnight blue over a black kimono. Yamato had already removed the armor from his finely-muscled body and had tucked it away in one of his ornate chests; the man certainly wouldn't be needing it anytime soon.

Taichi Yagami. Yamato let the name sit on his tongue for a moment before inhaling the smoke, intent on making the two synonymous for pleasurable activity. It had been a long time since he had been in possession of a human. For each of his nine tails, he had made it a point to have at least one encounter with the mortal world that would be recognized in his own. As a kit, he'd been quiet and reserved, unwilling to make an effort to be known. This was a rarity, as many kitsune were born with a more chaotic spirit. The change happened quickly as he matured, honing talents that drew the attentions of youkai and humans alike; he had, for example, an ear for music, and would possess humans to play melodies that would survive for decades. Because decades were akin to weeks in his lifespan, he'd seen the patterns that would last, and the ones that would fade, and as he gained his third tail, he decided he would only interfere if history would remember his contributions. Vanity cultivated over centuries was very powerful, indeed. He was especially fond of the Heian period: his clothing had come from the stores of the Fujiwara household when Lady Murasaki had written down the accounts from her dreams, supplied by Yamato.

But he was on his ninth tail; that was 900 years of ensuring that his music, art, and more militaristic endeavors were listed in history books, and then it was on to the next century. Time was a gift he'd had in abundance. He'd taken lovers in the past because of it, of course, but humans were vulnerable and had a very short shelf life. He hadn't bothered to keep an account, since it had happened so rarely. But today, he had his own human, and one that he secured with his own body rather than borrowing a different one. This surprising change had come about as a result of Yamato's younger brother, Takeru.

For it is well-known in the kitsune realm that stories are power. All spirits grew up hearing tales of kitsune who had caused the most mischief at an important regal function, or aided a mortal family into such prosperity that their lineage lived on to this day. These were the tales of the time. The rarest story, told by only the somber or the stupid, were those involving forbidden relationships with humans. Some fools regarded them as romantic, whereas most kitsune with common sense realized that the stories were told as cautionary tales rather than fantasies to hope for. After all, anytime a spirit's heavenly garb was taken, it meant that they could not go back to heaven, and they were doomed to be trapped on earth until they found a way back. After the first debacle, kitsune were especially wary of humans. Takeru happened to be a fool, but he had made history in his own way.

* * *

Yamato's younger brother had fallen in love with a mortal woman named Hikari, some 300 years ago. Takeru was still young, but had grown up hoping that one day, he would understand humans and their hearts, because surely, they continued living on for a reason, didn't they? Curious by nature, he was determined to find out on his own. One day, he came upon the young woman, who had gotten lost in the woods. Startled, he quickly took on his fox shape so that he could observe her. He'd thought that she would cry, break down, curse the gods for her luck. But she was calm, and looked up at the stars. After a few moments, when Takeru had resigned himself to believe that she would be like all the other humans who had gotten lost, she took a deep breath and started walking. He'd never seen someone so fearless. Something tugged at his heart, and he padded along silently, surprised that she was indeed well on her way back to her village. She kept glancing up at the stars, and he wondered what she was doing. 'Perhaps she's asking the gods for help,' he'd thought. 'Sensible girl.'

She had found her way back in due time, even though the sky had grown increasingly black. She had no torches, no fire, and yet somehow, she made it. (Takeru only had to shuffle about in the brush once to make sure that she kept going in the right direction.) He saw her shoulders relax before she looked up once more to the stars, and then turned back to the woods. She knelt down, clutching her knees to her chest. For a moment, Takeru couldn't breathe. The woman was staring right at him, and her eyes were kind, her mouth curled into a beautiful smile. But surely, she couldn't see him...

"Hello there," she said to the fox, a grateful expression on her tired face. "I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I like to think that you were, anyway. When I heard the leaves crackling, I thought I'd be a goner, but you steered me away from something worse, didn't you? And you followed me all the way here."

Sheepishly, she shook her head, chuckling in the way one might when they realized their life was in grave danger, and by some grace, they managed to escape. With a peaceful sigh, she pushed herself up, the fox still in her line of sight. "I know it isn't much, but I will make my special Hikari inari for you," she said brightly. "I'll leave it outside of my house, and you and your kits are free to take as much as you like. Then you'll know how grateful I am."

Feet aching and skin scratched from the detritus of the forest, she gingerly made her way back to her parents' home, hoping that she might bathe before allowing herself to rest. All the while, Takeru was left to contemplate the one-sided conversation. How could he even begin to understand the fleeting existence of human beings? He found that he wanted to keep watch over her, keeping her safe, even though she would one day grow old and die, like every other human. The only reason he could muster, when he stopped to think on his own, was that the woman's kind smile full of gratitude made his heart feel almost unbearably warm.

* * *

To this day, Yamato still felt puzzled by his brother's feelings. He was not the type to ask any further, and he had gone to get himself some rice wine as his brother finished his tale. They had gone on to get married, and though the details were foggy, all he knew was that Takeru's eyes sparkled when he talked about Hikari. He inhaled more of his smoke, crawling over to his sleeping human, puffing rings above his head.

He touched Taichi's cheek with the back of his hand, noting the sensation of the roughness of his chin to the softness of his lips. The man was warm-blooded and virile, his spirit exuding a boundless energy that Yamato had thought only very young children possessed. Most men of this day were tired and full of complaint, and were terribly boring. This one intrigued him, and he had to suppress his giddiness; the combination of the fragrant smoke and Taichi's invigorating aura were quite a treat. And then he remembered that he didn't need to be gentle or considerate. He took what he wanted, and he had only to give himself permission to partake.

Biting his lip with a lopsided grin, he lowered himself next to the brown-haired soldier, his face hovering just above the other's. Taichi had provocative, dusky-pink lips that took on the heady taste of his smoke: cinnamon, fire, and bergamot. This mouth was beyond exhilarating, and Yamato felt a pleasant shock run down the length of his back as he gently pried them open with his tongue. He was on top of him, a graceful yet sinister figure bent over a sleeping creature, and he could not remember the last time he had felt like his body had been set aflame.

He could hear Taichi's breathing in his ear, feeling the man's body react to his attentions. The faster his heart beat, the stronger his aura, and Yamato wondered for a moment if this is what heaven was meant to be like. It was a silly thought, and to distract himself, he decided he wanted his human to wake up and aid him so that he didn't have to do all the work. He straddled Taichi, pushing himself up with his hands on either side of his head. "Wake up, Taichi," he purred into the soldier's ear, and he smirked as he felt Taichi's back arch in response. "That's a good boy."

Dazed and disoriented, Taichi's face was hot as his eyes fluttered open. He had been having a most disturbingly wonderful dream, and though he couldn't say what he had seen, he certainly needed no words to explain how his body felt. He saw bright blue eyes, lazy and beautiful, and a head of golden hair in his dream looking down at him. As his own eyes began to focus, he realized at least part of it was not a dream. Yamato had pressed against his chest, the gleam in his eye mischievous and impatient; before Taichi could protest, Yamato's lips were on his, and the fire burned brighter. There was a hunger in his being that he had never felt before as the kitsune kissed him, passion burning in the pit of his stomach as he unconsciously wrapped his arms around Yamato's slender form. The sound of the fox's gasp was his reward, and he felt compelled to continue, leaving a trail of kisses upon his pearlescent neck.

Yamato's heart thumped at the speed of lightning as Taichi took the lead. He had never known a human to be so incredibly willing, and he had to admit that this was most certainly a perk. In the back of his mind, he wondered why this was the first time he had encountered such a person; had he been wasting more than 900 years of his life, when a man like Taichi existed, providing a pleasure he had never experienced before? There were others, of course, men and women and kitsune alike, but no one had been this forward, this aggressive. Perhaps he had gotten used to being obeyed without question that he had disregarded any other option. 'I suppose I really must keep this one around,' he mused as Taichi's hands explored his body. 'How very lucky of me to have acquired his company...ah!'

Taichi had taken it upon himself to slide his hands beneath Yamato's already-loosened kimono, eager to see more of the beautiful creature beneath the luxurious clothes. He moaned indulgently as he felt Taichi's callused hands on the small of his back, his skin tingling. The solder responded with a low, guttural growl that sent sparks into Yamato's mind, and he began to feel impatient with wanting. He ran his fingers through Taichi's dark hair, pulling him closer. The scent of him was intoxicating, musky from the woods and peppered with the sweetness of his smoke, and Yamato felt a familiar, exciting pain in his lower body. "Come here," he murmured, pulling Taichi on top of him.

Surely, he had a much better deal than his brother had. Not once did Takeru ever speak of his pleasures; but then again, Yamato was starting to feel intensely possessive of his soldier, and he wondered if he, too, would keep his human to himself until the inevitable. There would be more time to think on it, he figured, but for now he had his hands full.

* * *

Notes: Ah, I need to cite more things, but it's late and I can't quite remember which tales I've noted in the beginning, save for the Tale of Genji. Til next time...and I am somewhat sure that there will be a plot. Eventually.


	3. Chapter 3: Power

**Belonging**  
Chapter 3: Power

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Or like, Japanese history.

Warning: This is steamy.

* * *

Sunlight trickled into the room shyly, loathe to impose upon the couple entwined together upon the futon. Silken piles of robes were casually tossed aside in the same general corner of the opulent room. If the soldier had been of sound mind and not drunk upon the kitsune's wine and smoke, he would have realized that he was currently resting in a mansion that many believed was haunted. From the outside, the wooden building was dilapidated, dark, and foreboding. The inside, however, was more lavish than than the shogun's quarters. The walls were adorned with paintings from ancient times, and the ceiling above was a meticulously detailed representation of heaven. The rich, blackened cypress made up the smooth wooden floors and risers, accented with gold trim and curtains of transparent jade silk. As the light seeped through the window, Taichi groaned, reaching for his lover involuntarily, muttering something about a few more minutes of sleep.

The concept of rest was unknown to gods, and so Yamato had spent a fair bit of the evening studying Taichi's face. He'd taken the solider from sleep just to send him back again out of exhaustion. Still, he had to commend the enthusiasm and drive; the man had kept up quite well for someone who needed at least eight hours of no consciousness in order to function the next day. It was a reminder that he had to take care of his toys. Best not to overwork them until he got bored. And he was most certainly not bored; the evening prior proved to be an immensely enjoyable experience. A human should not have been capable of granting physical pleasure the way Taichi Yagami had done over and over again, but the proof was undeniable. Yamato felt that it was necessary to begin recording a history of the encounter, knowing that there were many more to come in the future.

He pet Taichi's soft, bushy hair as he magicked his koto to his side. He had stored his written account in a gold lacquer box next to the risen futon, certain that this would be yet another story to be passed down to future generations. Well, once they had reached a certain age, of course. For now, he was content to feast his eyes upon his human, memorizing every hard line of his body, the rise and fall of his well-built chest. This was the sort of man that women wrote lamentable poems for; the sort of man that other men felt jealousy toward, wondering whatever happened to the vigor of their youth. Yamato positioned his fingers on the fine strings of his koto, plucking notes as he studied the soldier, lying peacefully in the early morning sunbeam.

A verse he had written for Murasaki Shikibu as a poem had found life in the dulcet tones of his instrument, and seemed appropriate:

 _This life of ours would not cause you sorrow_

 _if you thought of it as like_

 _the mountain cherry blossoms_

 _which bloom and fade in a day._

Perhaps that was the beauty in humans, he thought sullenly. There were some, like Yagami, who were as beautiful as the cherry blossoms, but faded away so quickly. A human life was no match for the evergreen livelihood of a spirit. He felt a sense of pity for his younger brother, who had dutifully mourned his earthly wife for nearly three centuries. It was his quiet opinion that Takeru had made a foolish mistake in attempting to empathize with the flowers of earth when they wilted with time. Truly, humans had the luxury of existing as a burst of light for a mere few decades, and then fading into darkness as those left behind mourn their loss. Pretty young things, surely, but getting close to them was a hazard.

He shook his head and tuned the koto, sighing. At least he was practical enough to know that skin was simply skin, and there were no attachments to that. With another man, there was even less risk of accidentally creating a life that was half-human, half-god. Yes, he knew better. He would be better. When he'd first written those words for Murasaki to share with the world, he'd had to change it from _this life of yours_ to _this life of ours_ , though he did not personally understand the meaning. He wondered if Taichi would react the same way she had when he made that simple change.

Not that he cared what Taichi felt. Of course not.

Certainly not when Taichi finally began to rouse from his slumber, along with a very noticeable part below the waist. There was nothing in the sleepy seductive quality of those dark eyes that made Yamato feel anything aside from lust; the skip of the heartbeat was surely normal, wasn't it? A simple reaction to having Taichi's body be so close, but so far, just inches away from him as he strummed on his koto, that's all this was. It had been quite a long time since he'd done such recreational activities, after all. And as Taichi crawled over to Yamato, bowing down before him, his lips were suddenly on his legs. It was just heat that drove Yamato's hand to rest on Taichi's head, excited at the feel of his hair against the skin of his legs. Yes, just heat. Surely it was just that, nothing more.

When was the last time he had had the pleasure of such company? Yamato moaned as Taichi dutifully caressed the bottom half of his body, and his heart beat loudly against his chest as the soldier worked. The man barely said a word save for the occasional utterance of _Yamato_ , and he nearly wailed in response every time he heard his name. Such power! Had he not been assured of the fact that Taichi belonged to him by virtue of sharing his given name, he would have thought that there was a good chance that the opposite had occurred. And of course, they wouldn't be making love in his own less-than-humble abode if Taichi had been the one to claim him. Why, they probably would not have had anything to do with each other at all.

The very idea of the soldier sending him away turned his heart to ice. Taichi began to tease his opening, and Yamato grimaced at the right time; the human would have thought it was pain, but it was the closeness of the reality of not having Taichi to himself. Or, realistically, not having him at all. Humans were rightly afraid of that which they did not understand, and it was more likely that Taichi would have banished Yamato from the vicinity. The only reason the soldier was here was out of sheer circumstance; it had nothing to do with his attraction to the kitsune.

Distraught and suddenly furious, Yamato got to his knees, shoving Taichi back onto the futon. It was a rare occurrence that Yamato wanted to take control, as he was the type to lay in leisure as others serviced him, but he was unnaturally perturbed and needed to take his aggression out elsewhere. Gruffly parting Taichi's legs and resting them on his shoulders so he could see the man's face, he reached for a small pot of oil by his bed and quickly applied it to Taichi's opening in slow, tantalizing circles. He felt the soldier's body seize for a moment, and he wondered if this would be Taichi's first time. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he began to push a finger inside, ever so gently.

It was the softest of whimpers that made Yamato look up with a pause. Taichi's eyes were shut tight, and his nostrils were flared as he tried to calm his breathing, his muscles tensed. Like a good soldier, he must have had to learn how to relax the body and breathe after the first impact has passed. Like a good soldier, he didn't cry out as Yamato went in deeper, bit by bit.

Yamato's lips parted as he watched his human become accustomed to having something inside of him. It was an amazing mixture of expressions: pain upon entry spiced with pleasure; concern with excitement as Yamato touched him with another finger; enlightenment as the kitsune began to move his slick fingers in and out. He relished at the warmth of Taichi's blood pumping through those veins, the energy sparking into the air. Yamato absorbed the energy into his spirit, and it gave him a feeling so delicious that he fought to keep his slow tempo, though every bone in his body urged him to hurry. But Taichi was not ready yet. He was a soldier; he would certainly know how to train.

Taichi looked up at the kitsune, his eyelids fluttering with ecstasy as Yamato added finger after finger. Finally, after four, he let out a moan that could have set Yamato on fire. "Please," was all he could say, voice husky with desire. "Please make me yours."

How could the kitsune decline such an offer?

* * *

Taichi wondered if he had died and ascended into a heaven of sorts as he lay on his back, at the mercy of the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen in his life. When was the last time he had chosen intimacy? Had he ever? His job had its own stressors, and men of his rank were expected to visit the Floating World every once in a while to regain their senses, but Taichi never indulged in such practices. He was always much too eager to feed his wanderlust, to journey further into his country where he did not know where even the local tea house was located. The reward of faithfulness to the shogun was the opportunity to see more of the world as he guarded those villas.

The glowing man-kitsune regarded him with smoldering eyes, sending his heart into overdrive. He felt dizzy with a more traditional lust, his face warm as his body adjusted to the feeling of consensual invasion. Whenever he thought the pain was too much, he'd be reminded of his stiff rod, aching with more than just pain. The tip was now completely inside of him, and Taichi's eyes opened wide, his mouth curved into an obscene grin. There was more to it, he knew it, and he groaned as Yamato teased him with only that much.

He was ready to plead with the spirit when he felt skin like silk around his member. Gasping, he gazed upward, fully accepting his position in relation to the kitsune as the hand wrapped around him. "Oh," he breathed, for he'd never felt hands as soft as Yamato's; he was well-used to the callouses of his own hands.

His back arched as Yamato began to stroke him, slowly at first, then varying the rhythm every few seconds. Taichi was losing control, and he did not want to come so quickly, not when Yamato was so close to taking him fully. When Yamato licked his lips, his bright eyes radiating a regal authority, Taichi very nearly lost it. It was not possible for anyone to be so exquisite. Perhaps it made sense that Yamato was a kitsune and not a human, and for a moment, Taichi wondered what he had done right to gain the favor of such a spirit. The golden-haired man sensed the twitching in what he held, and tutted. "Now, now. Not yet, my courageous soldier boy. We have much more to do," he purred, and it took all of Taichi's will to keep from exploding in his hands.

The pressure from his behind had gone away all too soon. He wanted to protest, but found that he had no real desire to do so. "Turn over," Yamato said, and Taichi obeyed.

With one hand, Yamato stroked Taichi's face, pushing a finger into his mouth as the other grasped his throbbing erection tightly. He could feel Yamato's cock against his skin, and the various sensations were sending him into a frenzy. Rather than protest, he wanted to _beg_ until the man buggered him properly, but Yamato's fingers were in his mouth to keep him muffled. He felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his partner increased the speed and pressure on his length, the need to release never feeling so intense. Suddenly, Yamato stopped and pulled the fingers from his mouth and moved his hand to pull Taichi's head back by his hair. "You may have it if you scream for me," he said simply. "Tell me you ache for it. Beg for me."

In a strangled wail, Taichi cried out, "Oh, Yamato, please, please...I _need_ you to take me! I can't take this waiting...I can't...I need to feel release...please...!"

"Good boy," was the last thing Taichi heard before he surrendered his senses upward, fully convinced that this was heaven.

* * *

Panting softly, the men lay on the futon as the daylight continued onward, unhurried. Once again, Taichi was spent. It hadn't even been more than an hour since he had woken up that morning, and now it was the afternoon. He was nestled in the crook of Yamato's arm, facing toward the kitsune.

Tenderness filled Yamato's eyes as he touched his fingertips to Taichi's face. He felt a momentary shock as he realized this; he'd never felt that emotion in his life. He wasn't even sure if tenderness was the right word. All he knew was that all felt right with the world, both human and spirit, with Taichi in his arms; that, and the immediate feeling of warmth he felt whenever Taichi looked up at him with those big, brown eyes.

Or perhaps he was ill. Did kitsune even fall ill? As the soldier slept, Yamato decided that he would have to give his brother a visit for further explanation.


End file.
